Quinn
by shyannexp
Summary: This is how the Joker and Haley met before Suicide Squad. Batman catches the Joker and take him to Arkham Asylum. While Dr. Quinzel is supposed to be seeing if the Joker is fit for his murder trial, they're entanglement begins.


Prologue

My name was Harleen. Harleen Quinzel. I was a therapist at Arkham Asylum. I was borin'. I craved excitement. Mr. J is awfully excitin'! That's where I met him. Things were never the same after him. My Puddin'! I don't want to give you the wrong idea about me. I'm not some chick with readin' glasses and a pencil skirt. Not anymore. Me and Mr. J, we're two of a kind. Just me and him against the world.

Chapter 1: No Motive

White floors, white walls, the sound of my Stilettos hitting the hard marble. Sound echoing as I walked. I was nervous that morning. Maybe even shaking a little bit. I was called in early. They needed me right away. They had an important case that needed my attention. I was in my lab coat, my hair back, briefcase at my side. Smell of my perfume filled my senses. Better than the smell of a psych ward.

After all the terror and mayhem they had finally caught him. The one the news calls Batman had captured him. He had been brought to Arkham last night. I was to be briefed when I arrived. The case file took up boxes upon boxes. Delivered this morning from the police. All information on this villain, this madman, this character, the media called The Clown. No one knows his true identity. Per his calling card, the Joker was now my patient.

For the next week. Five days to be exact. I was going to evaluate and diagnose the Joker. A deputy had died a while back in a shootout with this mad man. He is supposed to get interrogated if he is deemed sane. If deemed insane the prosecution is not moving to press charges. Mainly because they know the Joker has people, bad people working for him. No one wanted one of guys goons hurting there family.

With people working for him there was always the thought; will they come and try to free him? This was not a prison. No one breaks out of Arkham. I hoped no one would break in either. Only a madman would break in. We had plenty of those here at Arkham.

Many things about my life working at Arkham were normal. As normal as it can be working in an asylum for the criminally insane. It was a job I was good at. Helping people. I was boring, but I was good at my job. I was good at being boring. Not to say my job was boring. That was just me. I wore gray skirts. White shirts. Even though red is my secretly my favorite color. My hair was always pulled back. And yes, I had reading glasses. I looked normal.

The intercom came on as I walked toward the warden's office. It made me jump. It rang at an awful pitch before the one of nurse's voice came over "Med Time. I repeat. Med time." I stopped a moment to look at my watch. I wax never here for morning meds. Everything felt off to me, never the less the halls would be filled with whaling patients soon. Many of these men had to be forced to take medication. Straight jackets was used on the most crazed patients. The ones we could not have handled otherwise. You could not be jumpy and work at Arkham. Today was different though. Everything was about to change. I just didn't know it yet.

The warden's office doors were locked. I had a key card that let me pass. Every room and door at Arkham had a scanner. Every employee had a key card. Every key card was programmed to let employees go into rooms they had clearance for. Only the warden and myself had access to his office. Mine was connected to his. I had been promoted weeks ago. Lead therapist. I also happened to be a psychiatrist. Dr. Jackson, one of my colleagues had thirty-five years of experience under his belt and was the obvious choice for the position.

Regardless of capability here I was, promoted. Lead Therapist. I swiped my key card to enter the office. Everyone was already there to hear what on the plan was for the Joker case. In the warden's office three of the employees at Arkham were there for the briefing. Without a name we were to call the Joker, John Smith. Everyone was already shouting about something all at once.

The head nurse Ms. Laura was there and none too happy about Mr. Smith's presents in her wing. "He shouldn't be here. It's not natural." She said, voice trembling. Before she could continue Dr. Jackson interjected "Think of the things I could learn from him. He should be my patient. I wish to study him, Warden." Jackson is also a Doctor. Experience doesn't come close to what this man knows. Jackson wore horned rimmed glasses. He had a large forehead, that a receding hairline exacerbated. He was not much to look at. Jackson lacked in looks, but made up for it with brains. But with knowledge comes madness; I have read about many cases, and seen I've geniuses slip. Most of my patients before now were just crazed homeless men who could not ever recall their names. More recently I had a CEO of a company have a mental break. He was a patient of mine here at Arkham.

No one noticed me entering until Dr. Jackson was hushed by the Warden. "Nice of you to join us Quinzel. Let us catch you up." Before he could continue Nurse Laura told me "Doctor Quinzel you must tell them to take that man far from here. He is no good. He just…sits there laughing. He's disturbed, Miss." Then Jackson "Quinzel no one here argues your degrees or intelligence. From a professional standpoint the more experienced should handle this. Don't you think?" Jackson tucked his hand in his pockets and leading to his toes and back on to his heels. Still thinking he had presented an argument that would change my mind, or the mind of the warden. I looked to the warden. "Jackson enough. It's Quinzel's case. I won't hear of it again."

Finally it was my turn to speak. "Since the rest of you seem to be up to speed I'll do my own research on Mr. Smith. Thank you all for your input." I picked up the file from the Joker's intake and walked to my office, shutting the door behind me. The voices went into a roar again. Nurse Laura started praying in Latin and Dr. Jackson pressed the warden to see reason. I had truly left the warden to the lions. Upon entering my office I found the file boxes. I truly had my work cut out for me. There must have been five stacks of file boxes. Four to each stack by my file cabinet. Another stack by my desk and two file boxes on my desk. I was beginning to feel overwhelmed. The warden put his trust in me, though. That had to be enough.

The warden entered my office with shouting from behind him. The yells muffled by the shutting doors. Jackson stood on tip toes as the doors shut. as if he could make out what a file said from another room. When the doors finally closed.

"Well, thanks for all the help back there, Doc." The warden sat down with a plop, rubbing his forehead, letting out of sigh of stress and frustration. Abraham Cain, the warden of Arkham Asylum. You think he would be a terrifying man. More like a middle aged teddy bear, with a necktie. A man with his physique didn't need the stress.

"Warden thank you for trusting me with the case." I said.

He smiled. "If I'd given it to Jackson the Clown is liable to push the Doctor over the line of sanity. Which he so dreadfully rides along. I fear he'll one day be a resident instead of payroll."

"Warden I will not let you down." I said.

"You couldn't let me down Harleen. You're a good kid."

"I am no kid, but I get your meaning Warden. Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah." The warden said wave a hand in my direction.

I sat at my desk. I took the earliest dated box, and took the first file out. I planned to work backwards. As I read through the pages it became clear I was dealing with a psychotic, murdering, criminal, with no morals, no codes, no remorse, and no fashion sense.

Hours went by. I had read through two boxes and had started a third. The lunch hour came and went. The Warden knocked on my door. The knock pulled me from my trance. "He is… awake." Said the warden. My stomach dropped. It was time. I was meeting the clown. The Joker.

He would be put in a room with one door, one table, two chairs, and a two way mirror. Two guards at the door armed with tazer guns. Two nurses with sedatives at the ready. He was already there as I walked down the long hallway. He has smeared clown makeup on. His greased hair hung in his face. His head hung looking at the floor. He wore a straight jacket for his protection. Really it was for my peace of mind. I couldn't be worried that would come across the table at me. The warden and most likely Jackson would be on the other side of the mirror. I don't like being observed. For his first session the warden and others were permitted to observe, after that it would be he and I.

"Ha.. Ha.. Ha.." He laughed without lifting his head. "Hi there, little girl. Would you like to hear a joke." He said.

"My name is Quinzel. I'm your Therapist. I am here to evaluate your sanity. You can tell me anything you want."

"My therapist? My sanity? You make it sound like I'm crazy!"

"I do not use the word crazy. You are sick Mr. Smith. I am here to help you with your sickness."

"I'm not sick. It's you that's sick. All you little ants. Crawling around, don't know what to do."

I opened my notebook. "Ants? Mr. Smith?" I asked.

"Are you asking if you're an ant or if my name is Mr. Smith?"

"Mr. Smith tell me about the ants."

"They crawl. They squirm. They work their whole lives for a Monarch that doesn't care about them. Then it all comes crumbling down under my green, alligator shoes. One step, one movement and their lives meant nothing. They have nothing. When ants have nothing. They become nothing. Ants believe they are what they own. They were born nothing I return them to nothing." He was looking at me now. Taking in his new surroundings. The stalk white interview rooms could be a shock to senses already dulled by sedatives.

"That is very interesting Mr. Smith. So you teach them? Show them who they truly are?" I asked

"No, Doctor Quinzel, I teach them nothing. You can't teach ants. I just want to watch them scatter from under my shoe."

I didn't know what to think. He didn't show signs of deception during either statement. The insane believe falsities to be true. So is lying even possible? I could not tell what this man's motives were. He definitely wanted to talk to me. He had a mixed history. Murder, fraud, arson, mayhem. It was once reported that he drove his bright purple, Cadillac up and down the streets of Gotham firing a Tommy gun out the window. Witnesses saw him laughing, and swerving through traffic, and onto sidewalks. Not even aiming as he fired. No one was killed, but the city was terrorized, and multiple people sustained injuries.

What are the motives of a man who seems to have none? Why do what he has done and for what reason? Why be so set in the thought that humans were little more than ants. That they are impossible to teach, so why not watch them scatter in the chaos. Perhaps chaos was the motive.

Who was this man before the green hair, the obnoxious clothes, and clown makeup? These questions needed answering. I decided to end the first session. I had what I needed to start a profile on Mr. Smith. The next few weeks would prove more difficult than I ever thought. The next two weeks would shape me into who I was to become.

Chapter 2: Mayhem and Murder

The clock's ticking was giving me a headache. I had gone back to my office to read my files. I couldn't get the interview out of my head. The way he spoke to me with such confidence. Why did he want to talk to me? I has expected silence from him.I record my session for review, so I listened to the interview again, and again. I needed to study his speech. How he chose his words. He was so calm in my presents. Nothing about this man made sense.

It was time to call it a night. I needed to go home and shower. Sleep wasn't going to happen. I had half a bottle of wine left. Without sleep I would use my time wisely. I would study this man. My other cases would be put on hold. They were not going anywhere, anytime soon.

Once home, I headed straight for the shower. I turned the hot knob and let the steam fill the room. I was trying to let the mirror fog before I went in. I didn't particularly like my reflection. I looked tired most of the time. I just kept my eyes down until the steam took the image of me to a blur. I let the hot water run over my head and face. Letting the stress cook out of me.

I turned off the water. It was time to study my patient. Hair wet, towel on, I headed for the living room. I need a wine glass and my robe. My robe was red and fluffy. I chose red because I almost always drink wine in my robe. Snuggled in with an overfilled glass; I began to go over the interview again. I needed to commit it to memory. We would talk again tomorrow.

I finished my wine. Opening my laptop on the coffee table in front of my sofa. I open my search engine. Typing… The Joker… Search. The articles went on for pages and pages reading: Clown Robs Gotham Bank!, The Joker's Mayhem has Reached New Highs with the Kidnapping of the Mayor's Daughter!, The Joker Gang kills Deputy in Police Shoot Out!, The Clown Steals Priceless Painting from Action!... and on and on.

It seemed to me there had to be order in the chaos to pull off such crimes. the Joker seem to be attracted to mayhem and murder. That echoed in my mind like a personal motto. Mayhem and murder, mayhem and murder, mayhem and murder… A man with a motto like that could be capable of anything. Kings and Queens of old had personal mottos like Swift and Just, or Patient and Penitent. Mr. Smith's motto was not kingly. It was monstrous. He was a monster.

I sat up in bed the clock read 5:04… I had to be at work in three hours. I was worried Jackson would insist that the warden change his mind. Give him the case. He was more qualified. Could I handle this? I couldn't let anyone see any signs of doubt in myself. I needed time to settle into this new position. And time was the one thing I had a limited amount of. I tucked myself into my blackets in my room. As I let my eyes shut I began to dream.

I saw my mother crying at the front door. She turned to me, reaching her hand out. Her eyes were black and her mouth hung open at an alarming angle. She began to rush me. I felt my heart quicken! Just as her hand reached my throat...the alarm blared. I gasped as I woke.

Got ready for work. I put my hair back with my pin. I tucked my white shirt intomy skirt. I looked the same as I did every day. I didn't want breakfast so I went without. Headed for my car. I saw something strange on my windshield. I thought maybe a parking ticket, but my car was in my driveway. Upon investigating I found a thick piece of paper on the windshield. It was a playing card. I turned it over in my hand. The joker.

This had been put here to scare me. Mr. Smith is more cunning than I had thought. He had a confidante on the inside. That, or, we had someone on payroll working for the Joker. That is the only way he could have gotten someone to come to my home. You don't get word out from Arkham. Once inside you're there until we let you go. No contact with the outside. To have me followed was quite a feat. For some reason I was impressed. I was probably still being watched. I would have to tread carefully that no one knew this information. No one was going to threaten me. That what this joker card was, a threat. I know where you live, type of threat.

Calm and casual I got in my car. If I was being watched I was not going to give my observer the satisfaction of seeing me shake. Once on the main road and on my way I no longer felt any fear. I had not felt much to begin with.

Never had one of my patients had me followed before. Then again none of my patients were so connected as to have an informant working at the asylum. None of my patients were this intelligent either. You have to be smart to look like the Joker and have people listen to you.

There may not have been much order among the chaos, but the clown was somehow the head of a criminal organization. One that operated in the shadows of Gotham. And now in Arkham. I was to assess and evaluate a crime boss. A mafioso of sorts. I must be insane myself to have taken this on. Maybe I had to be.

I was reminded of my dream as I drove to work. I remember her shaking hand reaching for me. Her poor shaking hands. The way she lurched toward me. The anger. I remember her face, how her mouth hung open like her jaw was dislocated. The tremors in her hands are imbedded in my memory. As well as those black eyes that looked like pits. I put the thought of my mother out of my mind. I was almost to work. I put the playing card in my glove box. I didn't want it seen by the wrong eyes.

Chapter 3: The Spider's Web

The warden was standing outside his office. Police chief Gordon next to him. Gordon was a big man like the warden. He had a thick mustache. He wore a khaki trench coat and a brown wool fedora. My mind swirled. I had received no calls last night. I walked faster. If something had happened in the night; as lead therapist I should have been called. Especially when the police are involved.

"Quinzel you're here. Thank God." Said the warden with relief, rubbing his big hands together.

"Of course, I am here. What are you doing here Chief?" I asked looking to Gordon.

"Warm welcome to you too. Official police business. I've come here to interrogate a suspect in a murder case. Young deputy Cho. His family deserves answers."

"Well, I am truly sorry for their loss, Gordon, but Mr. Smith simply cannot have visitors until his evaluation is complete." I replied firmly.

"You listen here!.." Gordon raised his finger to me.

Cut off by the warden. "Gordon come to my office let's catch up before you head out." Gordon looked to me, and then back to the warden. The warden put his arm around the chief and guided him toward his office.

"Now, Gordon, tell me again about your weekend." The warden looked over his shoulder at me. He motioned for the conference room. He must have moved the case files in there to give me room to spread out. Gordon gave in and followed warden Cain. Gordon knew better then come here. The case would be thrown out if I let him interrage Mr. Smith. He is here to determine if he is fit for trial if charged.

I did not tell the chief or the warden about the joker card on my windshield. I could not let men stop me from doing my job. I was not a fragile woman to be protected. I was not fragile at all.

Once in the conference room, I found I was correct in my assumption. My case fills were stacked in the corner with the one i was working on on the table. I sat down at the end of the long table. My first thought was how to start today's session with Mr. Smith. No more ant talk. I could not debate philosophy with him. I needed a diagnosis to present to the court. And a ticking clock around my neck.

I began to read. Jackson entered he seemed frustrated. He paced back and forth stopping now and then to say something, but always going back to pacing before he spoke. He was giving me a bad feeling.

"Yes, Dr. Jackson?" I looked up at him slowly over my reading glasses.

"Quinzel I'm sorry I tried to take this case from you. If you ever need a hand or a wall to bounce ideas off of. You know where my office is." He ended his sentence with a smile and let himself out. I was almost certain that was not what he had come to say. He was never the friendly type. He was hiding something. I could feel it.

None of that was my concern. The Clown was my focus. I needed a starting point. The first thing I say in the session can determine how it goes. It was time for his second session.

Back in the interview room. I told the guards this time I was to be in the room when Mr. Smith is brought in. He needs to see I waited for him. Not him waiting on me. He needed to feel important.

"Good morning Mr. Smith. How did you sleep?"

"Are we going to do this every day, Doctor? The pining, the endless questions? No means, no." He flutters his eyelashes comically at me.

"I have asked you a total of four question since you arrived here including when I asked how you slept." I said.

"You're sharp, Doctor. I like people who pay attention." He said smiling at me. His clown makeup was gone. His hair still hung in his face. He looked so tired.

"You have my attention, Mr. Smith. You will have it for the next four days."

"Do I intrigue you? Do you guys all sit around and gossip about me? You gonna write a big paper in a medical diary? How you studied the madman? Is this your big break?" He seemed excited.

"Medical Journal." I said.

"I'm sorry, what was that, Doctor?"

"Journal. They are called medical journals. You said diary. It will hardly be a big break evaluating you Mr. Smith. That's all you have been brought here for. I am here to evaluate your sanity. To see if you are sane enough to be convicted of murder." I said.

"Evaluator. What a title! They just call me Joker." He said with a growl.

"Joker. Tell me how did you earn such a name? Are you comedic? Do you tell jokes?"

"How many questions is that?" He asked.

"Seven."

He smiled. He looked at me like I was a fascinating subject. Like I had done him proud without trying. He was indeed fascinated by me.

"I like you. You're fun! Can I ask you something?"

"Ask what you like I'm your therapist for the next few days." I said.

"How many locked doors from me to you? My room to your office?"

"I do not understand. Why would you need to know something like that?"

The tone of the room changed. His unnerving smile turned to a serious glare. His head leaned to an awful angle. A quiet growl began to rise from him.

"You said I could ask you anything! So, answer my question." He said.

"Your room is locked from the outside, the ward you are on is locked, a corridor separates your ward from the main floor there is a door at either end, my office is locked. So in all, five from me to you."

"How many from me to the outside?" He asked leaning forward.

"Minus my office door, add the two security doors, six. The front door is unlocked during visiting hours. No one has visitors here though. No clear minded person comes to Arkham by choice." I said.

"You come here, but thank you, Dr. Quinzel. You're a woman of your word. I like that."

"I work here. You are welcome Mr. Smith. Can you answer my question?" I asked.

"Why did I need that information?"

"No, Mr. Smith. How did you get the alias, Joker?"

He just smiled and stared at me. He shook his head no. He acted like I hadn't earned that information. I finished my notes while he continued to stare.

"You should wear your hair down once in awhile." He said. "It looks long. Is it curly like the wisps around your face?" He leaned over the table a smelled my hair with a deep inhale. "You smell like cherries. I love cherries."

I blushed. Did he notice? I closed my notebook with a slap. I met his gaze. I didn't know how to take it. His eye contact was intense. Almost as if he wanted to.. I broke eye contact shaking my head.

I stood and looked at him. Told him I would see him tomorrow. As I left his eyes followed me. As I walked down the hall I stopped to look back. He was still looking. I had to answer his odd question to build trust. Upon looking back maybe I should have lied. I'm not sure I could even lie to him. Why couldn't I lie?

I went to my office to decompress. This time he had my head in a spin. The session was different from the first. This time was definitely different. He seemed like he wanted something. The door question had me think, his informant did not have all the information Mr. Smith requested. Seems he had to do his own re-con. Still I needed to know who was working for the Joker.

With the knowledge I had I knew it was not the warden or the head nurse. They know every door in the asylum. It was not Jackson, he had no contact with the Joker. It might have been one of the psychiatrists. They dole out meds, but don't have access to every part of the asylum.The nurses station just did timed meds for general population. The nurses don't work both wards. So if a nurse from B ward worked for the Joker they wouldn't know the doors on A ward. This was becoming an investigation.

I was going to need access to the employee files. If I could get a profile of someone who would work for the Joker I could find the person who is working for him.

When the warden went to lunch I would take my chance. I could grab the employee files, look over them later, and put them back before morning. I walked slowly toward the warden and I's door. I had no reason to think anyone suspected I was about to steal files, but I could not help the feeling of being watched. From behind me I heard echoing footsteps. I stopped abruptly. The footsteps behind me squeaked their shoes on the marble floor stopping just as I stopped. I would not have to steal files after all. The janitor was following me. He was new. Just started. There was a call over the intercom about a patient who got sick in the lunchroom. The janitor should be there now. Instead he was watching me walk through the asylum.

I walked quickly around the next corner and hid against the wall. The mysterious janitor came around the corner running. I stopped him in his tracks. I gave him a stern look.

"Why are you following me?" I asked.

"I wasn't. I'm tryna do.. a thing." he mumbled.

I had to go with what I had. I didn't know much, but I knew enough."Stop following me. Don't come to my house again. I am friends we Police Chief Gordon. I will have you arrested for harassment. Turn in your resignation. Do not come back to work." I said with teeth clenched.

I started to worry he would lash out. Or maybe I had yelled at an innocent man. I needed him to be who I was looking for. I needed him to just go away. Any attention he brought about would be negative to my work. He looked confused. I stayed firm and began to walk to my office again.

From behind me he yelled; "He said you were important. That he's got big plans for all of us!" He scratched his head like a child that was aggravated, and ran off.

My deduction was correct. He had been the one working for the Joker. He put the card on my windshield. This had all been some attempt to scare me or get close to me. Whichever was the case I was not taking it lying down.

I learned from one of the nurses I stand outside with that the janitor's name was John Smith. He had been hired the day Mr. Smith had been brought to the asylum. Sally was the nurses name. I also learned from her that no one had seen John since before lunch today. Word was he was seen leaving work early without reason. Just left suddenly. How could we not have noticed? Smith. The man had the same name as the one we were using to refer the Joker.

Sally was great for gossip. She left me with one more golden nugget, Jackson was seen sneaking onto B Ward. Jackson covers A Ward. Mr. Smith is in B. I could feel the web being soen around me. And the Joker was my spider.

Chapter 4: Guilty Witness

It was the end of the day the next day. Still had not slept well since this had all started. Dreaming about my mother had me afraid to close my eyes at night. In the dream world I remember her crying at the door before she turned to me as a monster, lurching forward, hand reaching. That wasn't how it happened in the real world. The real memory was of the day she was told my father died. He was in the army. Captain Quinzel. He wasn't around much when I was growing up. One memory of my father is clear. The rest are made up memories from stories told to me I no longer remembered.

I must have been seven, or eight. My father was home in the spring because the garden was full. We were in the backyard playing, and he gave me a red scooter. He took my hand and led me to the sidewalk out front. He was so proud of me. "You're a natural Harley!" He yelled after me. I looked back at him and waved. I lost control of the scooter and recked. Next thing i saw was my father running toward me. He picked me up and the scooter, and carried me home. It's the only memory I have. I loved my father, but I didn't know him. When he died I had already let him go. My mother was never the same.

All I knew was the Joker had me followed. Not the warden or anyone else, just me. He wanted me to know things, but wasn't willing to give everything for free. One condition for today's session was freedom from his straight jacket. Anything to get him talking. The more he talks the better I would know him. I knew I was supposed to evaluate him, but I wanted to understand him. I would never get another chance as far as knew.

Today we spoke about some of the headlines he was in. I printed some off to spread out on the table. Being allowed to be free of his straight jacket showed him trust. It also showed him I was not scared of him.

Without the jacket he was more intimidating. I had not noticed before how strong he was. Very lean man. With the photos spread out before him he spread his arm out taking in what I assume was accomplishment. He was in a white tank top. His skin was very pale making the bruises from his capture stand out like blackberries in the snow. He looked like he wasn't sleeping. Still he seemed happy to see me.

He pointed at the bank robbery and smiled at me. "Bought the nicest pair of shoes with that." he said.

"Did you buy anything else?" I asked. "No. We burned it."He chuckled to himself. He wanted me to ask him something. What was the right question to ask. Why did he burn it? No. He said we burned it. We not I.

"Who is we? You said 'We burned it.' We who, Mr. Smith?"

I impressed him. He laughed again and clapped. I felt proud of myself. I enjoyed my time with him. He was a madman and yet we got along fine after he warmed up to me.

"Haha, you listen. Well done Ms. Quinzel. I suppose I own such an observant woman a straight answer. Me and my men burned the money. I truly don't know all their names. They're mad men. They don't always know who they are. I do judge them for this. It must be lonely to not know who you are. Don't you think?"

He answered my question. I couldn't help it, I smiled. He noticed. "It truly would be lonely. You could not even introduce yourself. You seem to have much sympathy for madmen." I answered.

"So do you." He said smiling. He was always smiling at me. He didn't always just smile, but he smiled at me. His smile made me smile. This was so strange, but I didn't care. I was beginning to understand him.

We talked more and read more headlines. It became causal. It felt almost like a date not a therapy session. I had begun to swirl my hair in my fingers. I laughed at his jokes. I stopped asking questions because he just told me like it was a story, or a grand epic.

This wasn't right. He was insane. I was letting myself become enthralled. I cleared my throat to stop him from talking. He looked at me blankly. Almost as if he didn't want our conversation to end. I could have listened to him all day. His eyes studied my face as though he thought i was upset with him. I smiled at him and told him our time was up. It was the best session I'd had with him since he arrived here. He would not wear the straight jacket again. The results spoke for themselves. I had to left him wanting more.

Since it was the end of the day I went to find Sally. She had not heard or seen anything of help. All the same I kept her confidence. She was the eyes and ears of the underground here at Arkham. We once had hired a chemist to work for us. Trying different compounds to help our patients. He was fired and I was never told why. Later catching up with Sally I discovered he had been making heroin in the cellar. Giving it to patients as an experiment. Warden Cain was embarrassed so it was kept quiet. Sally was always listening.

Jackson was still in his office. Everyone else was gone. I was going to ask him what he was doing in the ward the Joker is on. As I was coming around the corner arguing up ahead made me stop. I stayed out of sight. It was the janitor John Smith. He seemed to be confronting Dr. Jackson about something. I listened closely, John was angry about something. Did Jackson work for the Joker too? Then John pushed him against the wall. Arm across Jackson's neck. I stayed where I was and watched. "You won't talk go near him again! You hear me?" John yelled, then he pulled a knife! It was a switchblade. John pointed it at Jacksons gut. "Please!" Jackson pleaded. It wasn't what John wanted to hear, so he stabbed him.

Covering my mouth with my hand to stay quiet. I watched as John Smith left in a hurry. There are no cameras in this part of the building. To save money there are only cameras in patient dwellings. If I had not witnessed this myself it would go unsolved. I rushed over to help Jackson. He was losing blood fast. I got to his office called for an ambulance, then I called the night guard. I went back to Jackson. I knelt down and put his head on my lap.

"Jackson look at me. Can you hear me?"

He nodded.

"Why don't you tell me your first name. Where are you from?"

"I… Ira Jackson. I'm…I'm from here. Gotham." He choked.

"I'm from Gotham too. Keep talking Ira. Stay awake."

Jackson's eyes started to close. I shook him slightly. He shut his eyes all the way. He wasn't responding anymore. I checked his pulse. "Nothing." I whispered to myself. Everything suddenly came back into focus. I hadn't noticed how blurry everything was. When I looked down Jackson's blood was all over my hands. I had put pressure on his wounds without thinking. I was covered in blood.

The security guard came running up. He pointed his tazer at me and told me to move away. I put my hands up. He took my them and pulled them behind me. He radioed for the police. He asked me questions, but I didn't hear him. My ears were ringing. I don't remember the drive to the station, and I don't remember being fingerprinted. In what seemed like no time I found myself in an interrogation room with a detective.

"Explain it to me again Miss. You were going to talk to your colleague about the Joker. You wanted his advice?" He asked.

"Yes, I needed a second pair of eyes on my files and notes. See what his thoughts were. He had offered to help me the day before." I answered.

Only some of what I said was the truth. Luckily he didn't know the whole truth.

"I hear you two hated each other. Couldn't work together. And it says here no files were found with you when the guard confronted you with the body."

"All my files and notes are in the conference room. Ask the warden, and Jackson did offer to be a wall for me to bounce ideas off of."

"Ms. Quinzel you're a very lucky woman. The man you knew as John Smith is actually a local man by the name of Ian Murray. Apparently Mr. Murray was doing the bidding of his 'all powerful Lord Joker'. You know anything about that?"

"Well, we call the Joker Mr. Smith…" I said.

"Why?"

"His alias gives him cred he doesn't need inside Arkham."

"The Joker is your patient at Arkham?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Tell me about that."

"Sorry, sir I cannot and will not."

"Excuse me? This is a criminal investigation! I can have you arrested for obstruction!"

"Doctor patient confidentiality. What I will tell you is that Mr. Smith has never spoken to me of plans or desires to have Dr. Jackson harmed. This comes as a complete shock to me. I swear."

He tapped his pen on a notepad in front of him. "In any case we have arrested Mr. Murray. Murder weapon in hand. And in so many words he confessed. So it's pretty open and shut."

"Am I free to go? I'm covered in a colleagues blood. I would like to go home and shower."

"You're free to go Ms. Quinzel, but don't leave town."

"Gotham is home. Nothing will make me leave." I said.

I was driven back to my car. CSI was at the asylum. I didn't tell them about: the card on my windshield, the fact that Ian Murray had been following me, that I threatened him into quitting, and that I saw the whole fight and did nothing to stop it, and most of all that I was becoming enthralled by the Joker. I was an accomplice now, no matter how I looked at it. I was partly responsible for Jackson death. I let it happen while i hid and watched.

Chapter 5: Falling

I sat in a bath tinted copper. Thinking about how I hid. Not out of fear, out of curiosity. I was so tired of nothing ever happening, now everything was happening all at once. It was fast, exciting, dangerous, and something about it was beautiful. How terrible a man was dead and I found beauty in it. Everything was always so boring. Maybe I was a bad person.

I was making head way with the Joker. Jackson was gone so we would need to hire someone new. I could not cover both wards. Truth be told I had not been talking to my other patient. This case was over shadowing everything else. I wanted to be more sad about Jackson, but I wasn't. He kept trying to take my case. He did not seem sincere about wanting to help. He was acting like he wanted a look at my notes and to listen to the interviews. He was going to conduct his experiments no matter what the warden and I said.

I was feeling paranoid. Maybe Ian Murray had seen me hiding. Maybe he would tell the police. I was sure to get a visit from Gordon tomorrow. I will say the same to him I told the detective, who's name I never asked. I didn't see anything. I was just trying to help Jackson. That's all I knew. The worst part was, I was having fun for the first time. I felt exhilarated. I was spiraling, and I was loving every second of it.

My dreams were filled with my mother again that night. This time no black eyes or dislocated jaw. I saw my mother's silhouette in front of the window. She was waiting. The doorbell rang, a soldier was at the door. He handed mother a flag, then he saluted her. She fell to her knees and sobbed. I was sixteen. I was reliving the memory a second time. I knew my father was dead, and I ran to my room. I hid under my bed covers. My mother found me later she reached for me again. Her hand trembling as it came over my shoulder..

My alarm went off. It was time to face everyone at work. Gordon would be there. The warden will already know everything. He would have been called last night when I was taken in for questioning. I needed to stay focused on what's important. Ian Murray was the murderer. I found Jackson after. I didn't see Ian Murray that night. Hadn't met him in the few days he worked there. With my story straight I went to work.

The drive was normal. Once in the parking lot I checked the glovebox. The card was still there. I headed inside, and there was Gordon with the warden next to him. The warden looked sorry. Gordon looked like the cat who ate the canary.

"Ms. Quinzel, I wondered if I might speak with you about the murder of Ira Jackson and that fact that the murderer claims to be in league with the Joker, your patient." He said smiling.

"No, you may not." I said as I went to pass him into my office. The warden held an arm out stopping me.

"As I told the detective, Gordon, Mr. Smith has not divulged a plan to murder anyone in our sessions."

"That's all. You have nothing else you wanna say to me?" He asked.

"I found Jackson covered in blood. I entered his office to dial 911, then I called the guard. I applied pressure to his wounds. I asked him his first name and told him to stay awake, then he died in my arms. The guard arrived after and cuffed me, the police arrived shortly after that, and here we are. A man's dead and harassing me is doing no one any good. The detective told me you caught Ian Murray with the murder weapon in hand. You have your killer Chief." I said in a huff.

"That is true we have Mr. Murray in custody. There isn't anything you can tell me that might shed light on what's going on." He asked.

"I didn't hire Ian Murray or "John Smith". I never met him in the two days he worked here. So.."

"I never said how long he worked here, Ms. Quinzel." Gordon said plainly.

"The detective at the station did." I said crossing my arms.

"No, I have the interview right here. He says the man you knew as John Smith your janitor was Ian Murray. He didn't give you the duration of his employment."

I didn't know how to respond. "Well someone one must have mentioned it. Am I wrong?"

"No, you are correct."

"Why so suspicious of me Gordon. I am just a therapist. He is just a patient, and only for a few more days, then he's all yours." I said.

I was trying to confuse him. Make him think he was wrong to be suspicious of me. I looked at him from his forehead to his feet. It's called unzipping. It takes down his defenses. He took a step back.

"Maybe we can talk another time Dr. Quinzel."

I nodded. I confused him enough to get him to back off for maybe a bit.He would figure it out and come back. I need to have a session alone with Mr. Smith show him the card. Tell him I know about Ian Murray. I wouldn't be able to record the session, of course, but only I listened to them.

Inside the interview room I tapped my pen in anticipation. I took out my notebook. Going over everything one last time. Two nurses brought Mr. Smith in. They removed his straight jacket and left the room.

"No recording today Mr. Smith."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that Dr. Quinzel?"

"I wanna talk about Ian Murray." I didn't waver or break eye contact.

"You want to know why I call myself the Joker?" He asked.

"Yes." I said.

"I once helped out a crime boss that ran my neighborhood. You helped and were grateful for the opportunity, or your family would die, badly, that went without saying. They took me to the acid factory. I'm still a little blurry on every details."

"Go on." I said.

"Anyway, we're there the boss gives me this helmet thing. I don't know. I looked like someone the Batman had been searching for. We were trying to trap him, or trick him. The cops showed up first though. Someone ratted. The boss and his boys got taken down and cuffed by Gotham's boys in blue. Then he showed up. Late!"

"Who showed up Mr. J?" I asked.

"The Batman. He chased me all over.I couldn't get the helmet off. He couldn't hear me or didn't care. Without way to defend myself or eyes to see the dark creature. I ran. He chased me along the high walks in the factory. He chased me to the end of the walk. There was nowhere to run. I backed away from a black shadow. I couldn't get the damn helmet off." His forehead wrinkled trying to remember. I leaned forward and held his hand.

"What happened next?" I asked.

"I couldn't see... I backed up into a railing I fell backwards into the acid. It had an affect on my DNA. It mutated every cell in my body. He thought I had died, but I didn't. I evolved."

"It's okay Mr. J." I hurt for him add he told his story.

"When I crawled out. The helmet fell off right off. I started laughing. I couldn't stop. Everything was just so funny!" He said.

"What was your name before you were the Joker?"

"How many questions have you asked me since we met four days ago?" He asked.

"Thirteen." I didn't have to think I knew the answer. I smiled at him,and he smiled at me. I wanted to make him happy. Why was I acting this way? I didn't even fight it anymore.

"I don't remember my name. I remember that bat though. I will ruin him and all that he stands for. He thinks he's a hero. He's not!" He slammed his fits on the table. I didn't flinch. Pieces of his greasy, green hair fell forward. He slicked it back. He placed his hands over mine, and leaned in.

"That's a terrible thing not to remember your own name. What would you have me call you?" I asked

"You called me Mr. J just now." He said.

"I did, didn't I?" I hadn't noticed. He didn't remember guys name. He said he would never judge a man for not knowing who he was, because the Joker didn't remember his own name.

"Yes, you did. What's your first name?" He squeezed my hands and smiled, and I smiled back. I couldn't help it.

"It's Harleen." I said.

"Harleen Quinzel. Sounds like Harlequin the jester. Do you know the story?" He asked

"No, I'm afraid I do not." I said.

"I think I'll call you Harley. Harley, Quinn. With two n's."

"My father called me Harley." That was the beginning of the end. Something about the Joker made my heart swoon. He had me followed, but not killed. His man backed off on my orders. Jackson tried to take over and the Joker made him disappear. Maybe it sounded morbid, but everything would go so much smother with Jackson gone. No more arguing about cases. I felt like I was falling when I was with the Joker. He was just so sweet to me.

Chapter 6: A Purpose

The warden wanted to talk to me when I got to work the next day. He didn't get the chance after he got Gordon to leave me alone. He asked me about the night of the murder. He asked me about any progress I had made with Mr. Smith. He seemed like he fought every answer I have es a lie, then he pulled out my notebook. The one I kept locked in my desk. The one I write about the Joker in.

He flipped to a page where I mentioned the Joker's eyes being sweet, then he flipped to a page where I had drawn him. The warden said I was losing touch with the purpose of the sessions with the Joker. Said in four session I was being brought into his control. He demanded to know why I told him about the security doors. He implied that Ian Murray may not have been able to pull off the murder had the Joker himself not relayed the information I gave. Little did he know I was in a position to stop the murder, and didn't. I was so different. Maybe warden Cain was right. Was I being manipulated? No I knew I wasn't acting like myself, but the Joker had awoken something in me. I felt different, and I felt better.

After a fair amount of yelling the warden sat heavy in his chair. He put his forehead to his hands, let out a sign and sat up. Not looking up he said "You're of the Joker case. I am releasing him to Gordon for questioning in the murder of deputy Cho. You're too close to this Harleen." He said it with such finality.

"Can I complete today's session? I can put a diagnosis together. I just need one more session with him,then you can give him to Gordon. I will deem him fit for trial." I waited for an answer. I truly didn't know what he would say.

"Alright. Just today. Last session. Tomorrow he gets picked up by prison transport whether you deem him fit or not. I'm calling Gordon. You're done Harleen." He said.

"Thank you, Warden. By the way it's Harley."

A bit of confusion hung in the air. I got my notebook back from him and held my hand out. The warden looked at my empty hand, then reach in his pocket and put the other key to my desk in my hand. He knew he had every right to take me off the case for any reason. He could also lose his job for breaking into my desk and reading the notes on a confidential file. There was mutually insure destruction. I got my last session with the Joker. He got to keep his job, for now.

I went and got the playing card from my car. I ran into Sally outside. She was smoking. I went to see if she had heard anything. She said she hadn't seen anything strange really just the normal goings on here. Nothing strange had happened since Jackson died. As if that wasn't strange enough.

I needed to do this last session with all the information I had at my disposal. I was running out of time. I had to show the Joker he could trust me, and warn him about the warden. In our interview room we started the session. No recorder. Just my notes.

I slip the joker card across the table. He picked it up, flipping it over in his hand. He looked at me.

"Ian Murray." I said.

"He worked for me. So what?"

"He killed Dr. Jackson." He said. I knew that I just wanted to know why. Did he do it for me?

"That hack! You know he undermined you? He thought he knew better. Thought that you were given something above your level. That you were incapable. We showed him didn't we?" He said.

"I didn't ask you to have him killed." Not that I cared. I use to react the ways others did. The Joker didn't expect that from me. I didn't have to pretend around him, and since this was our last session I want going to.

"No, you wouldn't have. You were gonna take care of him yourself." He said.

"No, I never would have.." I paused. I waited for everyone to go home that day. I was so angry. I saw the argument with Ian Murray. I didn't call the guard or go to help. I watched in excitement. Even after he stabbed him I did not move. Maybe I didn't ask the Joker to kill Jackson, but I also didn't care he was dead. He was out of the way. How could I go from who I was to who I was becoming in five days? Is this how he works. Making you do things you never thought possible. Making you doubt your own sanity. All the while pulling you in.

"Thank you." I said.

"You are welcome, Harley Quinn."

He hadn't driven me insane he woke me up. I hated this job, and I hated Jackson. I wasn't ashamed of that.

"Warden is transferring you tomorrow. Gordon wants you for the Cho murder. This is our last session." I said.

I couldn't explain it. I felt almost heartbroken. I didn't want him to go down for murder. I know it was wrong. That the deputy didn't deserve to die, but I didn't want Mr. J to go to prison. He held my hands again.

"Your boss brought me in here and asked what I'd done to you? I told him I set you free. I told you about the ants. I know you understood. How many questions have you asked me Harley?"

"Fifteen." I answered. I had no idea the warden had spoken to him. Another line crossed. Another trust broken. How come Sally didn't mention the warden going into an interview room?

"Wow, that really is something! You know Harley, I think you and I are a lot alike." Alike. He said we were alike.

"Mr. J, five days, five short conversations. Seems like not enough time. When I held your hand, I knew. I knew I loved you. I hid it from myself. You're the only patient I've seen this week. I have dozens of others who need my care. They don't matter. They haven't mattered. You could have had me killed four days ago when Ian Murray followed me home, but you didn't. You told me how you got your name. That has to mean somethin' Mr. J."

I couldn't believe what I had just said. It just came over me. It felt so good to tell him that. To admit it to myself. I loved him! The warden busted in. He had been behind the two way mirror.

"Alright that's enough you crazy son of a bitch! I won't let you corrupt Harleen!" he screamed. The warden stood between the Jogger and I.

"He hasn't corrupted me Warden. I know he's a bad man, but I love him. I have never felt like this. I truly don't care what he's done." I pleaded.

"I've heard about all I can take!" The warden said. He turned to me with both hands on my shoulders. "Harleen this isn't you." He was truly concerned. From over his shoulder I saw Mr. J writing in my notebook.

The warden began to push me out. Mr. J handed me my notebook in the last moment. The nurses went in and knocked him out with drugs. He was escorted back to his cell. The warden took me into his office.

"I'm sorry Harleen, I have to put you on leave. Indefinitely. There will be an investigation to see how far you are tied to all the goings on the last week. Dismissed." He stated firmly.

I didn't speak. I wanted to see what Mr. J had hidden in my notebook. I went to my office I left my lab coat and key card on the desk. Walking past a mirror, I stopped to look at my hair for a moment. I reached behind my head taking my pin out. My hair fell around my shoulders in curls. With my notebook in my briefcase I went to my car. Started the engine and peeled out of the parking lot with new purpose.

Chapter 7: The Beginning

At home with my notebook on my lap. My hands were cold from fear. Was the note to say goodbye? Did he leave me instruction of some kind? In the back of my notebook a small message was written.

"Don't worry Doc. I'll see you

again, where it all began.

Thanks for the pen. - J."

That night my dreams were filled with my mother again. She cried for days after my father died, after that she stopped speaking. My mother died when I was eighteen. I had just started college. Working toward my degrees. I was the only one at the funeral. Standing at the base of her grave as she was lowered in. I didn't cry because I said goodbye to her the day my father died.

I was raised by nannies in my early life. While mother waited for her true love to return. After he died things didn't change. Before I left for school and still living with my mother, my dream was of the last time she spoke to me. Perhaps the last time she spoke at all. She came to my room and sat on my bed. She didn't look at me. Looking toward the wall she spoke to me. "Honey, I know I haven't been much of a mother. I have no excuse. Sometimes when you love someone like I loved your father life isn't worth living without them. I love you, my daughter. I wish I was stronger for you. I'm not long for this world without your father. So please, go to school. Be successful. Above all, know love when you see. And hold on to it with all your heart. No matter the consequences fight for love above everything and everyone else."

I pretended to sleep. She stroked my back for a moment before leaving the room. She turned into a shadow as she reached the door, then blew away like dust.

I awoke suddenly in a cold sweat. That dream was as vivid as the day it happened. Maybe it was a broken heart playing mind games. Maybe it was my mother contacting me from beyond the grave. Telling me to fight for the man I loved no matter the consequences. It was ten in the morning. The prison transport had already happened. The note he said he'd see me again where it all began. Arkham? He would never go back there. Where did it all begin for him? The factory.

It had been one week since I told Mr. J I loved him. Since he left a note for me; promising to see me again. I turned on the news. Mr. J had been charged with murder. The Cho family was pleased. Everyone was pleased, but me. Trial would begin later in the year. This wasn't fair. Would the man I love sit in prison until we were old and gray? Would he die in prison before he was ever mine?

Mr. J was a man of action. He needed a woman of action on his side. I ran to my room. I needed to look different. No one could recognize me where I was headed. I was going to get a note to him. He needed to know I was waiting. With a red scarf on my hair, a trench coat, and sunglasses; I looked like a movie star hiding from the paparazzi. It would be a huge risk going to the prison, but it was a risk I had to take.

As I walked up to the prison gates, I was so nervous. How would I get a note to Mr. J anyway? By the gates there was a woman smoking. Sally. She walked up to be and grabbed my arm, pulling me to the side where no one could see us. How was she involved in this? I didn't understand. I must have looked confused.

"Don't scream ma'am. Mr. J has been waiting for you. Ditch your wallet. Meet him where it all began tonight. Don't let anyone follow you. Understand?" I nodded, but couldn't speak. She went to hurry away, but I caught her and hugged her with all my might. She had known all along. He didn't have one man working for him on the inside. He had two. One hidden so well I didn't even realize it. She told me things only when Mr. J needed me to know. She is how I found out that Jackson was going behind my back, but she didn't tell me the warden harassed Mr. J.

She left me standing stunned. Mr. J was coming for me. Even from inside a prison cell I felt like he was looking out for me. My legs felt like pudding. Why did I love this mad man? Did he truly love me in return? Was I just a way to escape? My mind ran a marathon in my head. This was it. I went to the bank and closed my account. I went home I put two outfits in a bag. I put my apartment keys and a note saying I was headed for Mexico on my counter. I dropped my wallet in the trash as I left.

As the door was about to shut my door the phone rang. I stopped, I went back in and checked the caller ID. I saw the warden calling I realized it must be happening right now. This was it! The warden was calling to warn me. Mr. J had escaped and was on his way to the factory. I had to meet him there. This was my chance.

I went out and hailed a taxi. I didn't need a car anymore. We pulled up to the factory. The driver cautioned me about the toxic spill and rowdy teenagers who where both a danger to me. I assured him I would be fine.

The factory was ominous. How terrified Mr. J had to have been when he was brought here the first time. I climbed high in the factory. Retracing the steps of the fateful night Mr. J had told me about. I walked along until I came to a break in a dead end of the railing. That's where Mr. J fell. That clumsy bat could have killed him! Anger in my belly grew. I couldn't handle the thought of Batman being thought of as the hero. Mr. J would show the world who he really was one day. I was going to be by his side when he did. Everything was going to be great. Better yet, everything was going to be exciting.

I heard footsteps. I could hardly breathe. This was it. I took off my scarf and turned around to see… the warden. He had followed me here. I was suppose to be careful and make sure I was alone. He was going to ruin everything! These last two weeks had been a wake up call. I was not going to be persuaded. I would not be stopped from having my happy ending

"Harleen I followed you. You shouldn't be here. The Joker escaped. He stole a pen and killed a prison guard with it. I tried calling you. We've got to get you somewhere safe."

He reached one hand for mine his other hand held a drawing at his side. I snatched the drawing from him. I still had not spoken. I turned to look at it. It was a drawing...of me, and it was…beautiful.

"Did you draw this!?" I asked. I held up the drawing as I walked toward him.

"No! I didn't draw it. I don't think about you that way. He.. he drew it, I swear. The clown." He said.

The warden had backed away from me. All this time he had been truly scared of the Joker. He should have been scared of me. He had no idea what the drawing meant to me. Mr. J did love me. He was coming soon. This fat pig wasn't going to keep me from him now. I began to cry and hold the drawing to my heart. The warden approached me slowly. When he was close enough to grab; I took hold of his shirt we struggled! He was tall and heavy I couldn't get the momentum I needed. We fought, he ripped my shirt. He was so shocked at my actions. We spun around. He got hold of my chin and pushed me against a wall. I let out a cry of pain while pushed on his face.

"You're doing this for him!? What's happened to you Harleen?" He asked. He paused looking deep in my eyes for the old me. He didn't find what he was looking for.

I brought my knee up with everything I had. It landed directly between his legs. He stumbled back. I held onto the railing and I kicked him in the chest as hard sad I could.He flipped off of the railing as he fell. I pulled myself back up. He hit the edge of the acid vat, his back snapped, and he slid to the floor. I was panting. I couldn't catch my breath. I just killed a man. I didn't even know for sure Mr. J would come. I just had to hope. I spit over the railing on Warden Abraham Cain. "Good riddance." I said.

Looking over the railing at the pooling blood beneath the dead warden. I heard footsteps from behind. I held my breath. Hands slowly came around my shoulders that spun me around. It was him.

"See, I knew you could take care of yourself." He said.

I couldn't believe it. "I got your message Mr. J. He was going to stop us from being together. I couldn't let him."

"Shh.. shh.. shh.. It's all gonna be okay now." Rubbing my shoulders.

"So we can be together now?" I asked. Slowing he pushed me back.

"We are too different my love. I see the world differently. I breathe and think differently." He said.

"We aren't so different. We are more alike then I thought. Look what I've done. Look how far I've come."

"Yeah maybe we are alike. We are still too different to be together."

"I never lied to you. I helped you, didn't I?"

"Yes, yes, yes. You warned me of my impending transport to prison. You also facilitated the pen in which I gouged my guards eyes out with to make my escape."

"I just killed a man to be with you." I said.

"You killed a man that stood in the way of something you wanted. Nothing more."

"Then we are alike. I let nothing stand in my way. If we can't be together then why bring me here? To kill me? Well go ahead. I can't live without you."

"I never said 'can't'. I said we're too different. What if we were just alike? Two of a kind? Peas in a pod? Just the same?"

His strong hand on my shoulder he walked me to the edge. He looked down at the acid that had changed his DNA all those years ago. He was right. We were different, but we didn't have to be. I stepped up to the ledge. I looked at him.

"I can't swim." I said.

"Oh, my sweet Harlequin. I'm right here, but there is no going back. The madness will take you, and you'll be just like me."

"That's all I needed to hear."

I held his hand again. This time I was never letting go. He wrapped his arms around me. He pulled my chest to his. I could feel his heart quicken. Breathing as one we kissed. Our first kiss. It was like a bomb exploding, or the way you feel when you jump from a plane. Weightless until right before you hit the ground. I landed when our lips touched.

We let gravity take us over the edge as we plummeted, I felt like a falling star. Deep into the acid everything was technicolor. My understanding of everything changed. I lived a thousands different lives. When I came up for air I could feel it. The world vibrated and spun just for me. A thousand choruses stood and sang hallelujah at the top of their voices! The acid was in my blood. It was my blood now. We surfaced. I looked at him. I finally understood. Things that confused me were common sense.

Just the breeze through the factory felt like rose petals on my skin. He kissed me again. I never wanted that moment to end, and it didn't. Nothing before mattered. Nothing after would be the same. Things were exciting, fun, and best of all crazy!

We climbed up to the roof. He held his hand out showing me my vast kingdom. Nothing has ever looked so beautiful. Gotham's city light shining in Mr. J's eyes.

"What do you think of the new world?" he asked.

"I think… We are gonna burn this city to the ground."

"Ha.. Ha.. Ha.. Ha.. Ha.. Ha.."

From then on we were the King and Queen of Gotham City. Our motto, Mayhem and Murder. When we were together there was no force on earth stoppin' us. I fought for my Puddin', right or wrong. Right and wrong didn't matter. Mr. J is everythin' I'll ever need. Maybe it took a mad man to love a mad woman and be loved in return.


End file.
